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There is a fullness of all things, even of sleep and love.

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Even
Things
Love
Fullness
Sleep

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Sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, unwakeful, most pleasant, the nearest like death.
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Lay ye down the golden chain From Heaven, and pull at its inferior links Both Goddesses and Gods.
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All my life I've been an obese man trapped inside a fat man's body.
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And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind, The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.
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The sex is ever to a soldier kind.
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Do thou restrain the haughty spirit in thy breast, for better far is gentle courtesy.
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I detest the man who hides on thing in the depths of his heart and speaks forth another.
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For too much rest becomes a pain.
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